


Unsolved

by KaRaEa



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: FBI Agent Stiles, M/M, x files au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2019-10-30 14:56:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17830727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaRaEa/pseuds/KaRaEa
Summary: Stiles is an FBI Agent known for working the weird cases, the unsolvable ones. Conventionally unsolvable anyway. Stiles investigates, missing people turn up, serial killings stop happening, and no one asks any further questions. They used to. Not so much anymore.Derek is a new transfer who may have ulterior motives for requesting to work with Agent Stilinski.





	1. Agent Stilinski and the greatest bisexual to ever live

**Author's Note:**

> For the friend I convinced to watch Teen Wolf, then refused all of her requests to write Teen Wolf fic for. I hope this makes up for my negligence.

 "Got another one for you, Mulder," Raphael McCall calls through the door as he walks in.

Stiles rolls his eyes without looking up from the paperwork he's so very close to finishing. "Very funny, Raph. Never gets old."

Raphael chuckles to himself and leaves Stiles with... wow. With a very attractive junior agent.

"Hi," Stiles says, too caught up in stubble and broad shoulders and pink lips to say anything else.

"You're the guy?" Hot Stuff asks.

"I'm a guy," Stiles more or less agrees. "You'll need to be more specific for me to confirm whether or not I'm _the_ guy."

"But you're twelve," Hot Stuff protests.

Stiles pulls a face. "I'm twenty-four."

Hot Stuff's impressive eyebrows shoot up. "And you're already leading your own investigations?"

"Such as they are," Stiles says, a little self-deprecatingly. He only gets the cases he does because everyone knows they're unsolvable. Conventionally anyway. Stiles investigates, missing people turn up, serial killings stop happening, and no one asks any further questions. They used to. Not so much anymore.

"I asked to work with you," Hot Stuff says dubiously.

Stiles perks up. "Really?" Then, "You sure? Raph's son is a friend of mine and he gets worried about me working alone. I wouldn't be surprised if your first choice was unavailable or already got taken or something and they just-"

"You're Agent Stilinski, right?" Hot Stuff cuts him off. Stiles doesn't blame him. "I'm Derek Hale. I transferred in from the NYPD."

"Cool," Stiles says. "So, why'd you want to work in the X Files?"

Derek looks blank.

"The X Files? Mulder and Scully?" Stiles prompts. "'The truth is out there'? Starring the greatest bisexual to ever live?"

Derek shrugs.

"Dude," Stiles sighs, giving it up for a lost cause. "Anyway, you gotta know there's no glory working with me. We don't get high profile cases, and half the stuff we do get never ends in an arrest. No one talks about us."

"I was told you handled the Beacon Hills attacks," Derek says.

Stiles pauses. "It was a little before my time."

Truthfully he did handle them, with some help from Scott and a few classmates, but he was seventeen and hadn't even thought of a career with the FBI yet. His dad and Raphael claimed the credit and Raph recognised a resource in Stiles' uncanny ability to solve cases that have no rational explanation. As soon as he graduated, Raph had done his best to essentially fast track Stiles through training and into his present position in the FBI.

"I also heard you found Malia Tate while you were still at the academy," Derek follows up. "And that you've solved murders and missing person's cases no one else could. Some of them cold cases that hadn't been touched in years."

Stiles shrugs modestly. "Some people would say I didn't really solve a lot of them."

"The families you reunited with their lost loved ones would disagree," Derek replies, and there's something wistful in it that trips a switch in Stiles' brain.

"Wait," Stiles says, trying to match up the grown man in front of him to the traumatised teenager from his dad's case files. "Derek Hale. Not the Derek Hale from Beacon Hills whose sister and girlfriend went missing?"

Derek looks wrong footed for a moment. "Yes."

Stiles nods and hopes Derek doesn't somehow know that a young Stiles had insisted to his dad that Derek had killed Kate and Laura and would continue his bloody rampage through Beacon Hills. He likes to think his instincts have got a little better since then. "I guess that explains your interest in unsolvable cases."

Stiles isn't sure whether the resulting expression on Derek's face is a wince or a glare. Either way, oops.

"Sorry, that was... Look, I put my foot in my mouth a lot and it's probably best if you just ignore me like ninety percent of the time," Stiles apologises. He fully accepts and resigns himself to the fact that he'll be doing a lot of that around Derek. The man's a landmine of angst and good looks, Stiles is bound to alternatively hit on and re-traumatise him every time he talks to him.

 

Stiles steals the case files for Kate and Laura's disappearances next time he visits his dad, because of course he does. He knows the files by heart from the amount of time he spent as a kid snooping through his dad's cases, but re-reading them as a trained professional is different. He's always had an instinct for this kind of thing, but now he knows what to look for...

"Argent," Stiles mumbles under his breath, confirming the name. If it weren't Beacon Hills he might think it was a coincidence. After a glance at the info on her family he's sure it isn't. And if Kate Argent is one of _the_ Argents then Stiles needs to have a word with Scott.

 

"You want me to smell a dead chick's clothes?" Scott asks, more resigned than surprised.

"I just need to know if she was a wolf or not," Stiles says. "And we don't know for sure that she's dead."

"She went missing at the same time as a hunter over a decade ago," Scott points out. "If she's a werewolf then there's no way she's alive."

"Just sniff the damn sweater," Stiles insists.

Scott obliges.  His sad frown says all Stiles needs to know.

"Dammit. I was really hoping she'd run off on a lesbian tryst to become a hunter with her brother's girlfriend," Stiles says.

Scott pulls a face. "Why?"

"I wanted to solve this one for Derek and get him his sister back," Stiles admits.

"Even if his sister was an evil lesbian murderer who stole his girlfriend and basically faked her own death?" Scott asks in puzzlement. 

Stiles shrugs. "Anger is easier than grief?" He sighs. "I can't tell the guy his sister was a werewolf who probably died horribly at the hands of a family of werewolf hunters, one of whom was his girlfriend who probably also died during the fight."

Scott nods. "So don't tell him."

Stiles groans and lets his head drop to the McCalls' kitchen table. Then lifts it again. Looks at one of the reports in the pile he brought with him. "Wait."

"Wait, what?"

Stiles picks up the report. "The Argents filed a missing persons report."

Scott frowns. "So?"

"So why would they do that if they knew she died during a hunt? Why would they want to get the cops involved?" Stiles asks.

"To avoid suspicion?" Scott suggests.

Stiles makes a doubtful sound.

"Why would they want the cops to look for her anyway?" Scott asks. "Even if she was really missing wouldn't they just find a werewolf to blame it on, murder them and consider the problem solved?"

Stiles considers. "Maybe that's exactly what they did."

 

It's surprisingly easy to track down some Argents. Then again, as far as the non-supernatural world is concerned they're perfectly normal people, and to the supernatural world they're to be avoided, not sought out.

Christopher Argent, or Chris as he asks congenially to be called, seems friendly and relaxed on the surface. His sister's disappearance an old wound and Stiles' interest appreciated but unnecessary. On surface.

Stiles is pretty well used to reading people, and to interpreting his own instincts, and he absolutely knows that his interest is ringing alarm bells and that there'll likely be an Argent family meeting about him as soon as he's gone. He'll have to step carefully from here on out, but he'd guessed as much anyway.

When he sees the specks of wolfsbane powder around the rim of his coffee he makes sure to drink the whole thing, and tries not to be alarmed by the implied urgency in the hasty spiking of his drink.

"Can I ask you what raised your interest in Kate's case?" Chris asks. "It's been over a decade now."

Stiles attempts an easy smile that usually smooths ruffled feathers and suspicions alike. "If I'm honest, it's more of a personal interest. My dad was the lead officer on your sister's case, and now that I've got a badge of my own..."

The sharp regard in Chris' eye fades some with understanding. "Ah, I see. Nothing new on the case then?"

"'Fraid not," Stiles says apologetically. "I just figured I'd go over some cold cases while my desk was clear, and I remembered this one from when I was a kid. So far no joy, and my desk is already filling up again, but I'll make sure to let you know if anything does come up."

"Thank you. It means a lot that you'd take the time," Chris says. "I've got to say though, my family has come to terms with Kate's death. She would have come back to us by now were she still alive."

Stiles nods. "I wish I could tell you different."

Chris smiles. "It's fine, really. You get back to work helping people who can still be helped. We have the only kind of closure we need. Thank you again."

Stiles takes the hint and says his goodbyes, hoping Chris bought his excuses and won't look too hard at his motivations. If Stiles is going to solve this, he needs to do it without a famous family of hunters finding out his best friend is a werewolf and so was his sort of partner's sister.


	2. Chapter 2

Next port of call is Lydia, because even now Stiles has a little speck of hero worship for the girl he literally worshipped all through high school. 

"And you're coming to me for an illegal surveillance operation instead of going through the FBI resources you could legally requisition why?" Lydia asks, scathing as ever.

Stiles pulls a face. "Technically this isn't my case. I'm looking into it for... A friend."

"I suppose I really should encourage you to grow your social circle," Lydia says begrudgingly. "Alright, I know someone with connections to one of the Argents. I'll arrange a meet up and tag their phone."

"Do not get caught," Stiles cautions. He knows better than to tell her no in person stuff at all, but he needs to make sure she takes this seriously. "These guys will not mess around, if they get suspicious of you, they'll figure out what you are and they will kill you, Lydia. No fancy stuff."

"Got it," Lydia says, still not sounding desperately concerned, but then she rarely does.

"And the other thing?" Stiles asks.

"Sure, I'll get some computer geeks to trawl for information on Kate Argent or Laura Hale. See if they can turn up some social media or email or something," Lydia confirms. "Though you could do that just as easily yourself."

"Lyds, you're a math and physics double major and a TA for a quantum theory class. You don't get to call other people geeks," Stiles says.

"Whatever."

 

"I'll see you soon?" Stiles asks.

"If I get the time, or you fly out here," Lydia agrees.

"Bye, Lydia."

Lydia hangs up without saying goodbye, and Stiles shakes his head fondly. 

"Stilinski?" Derek asks uncertainly from the doorway to Stiles' cupboard office.

"Stiles," Stiles corrects. "What's up?"

"Murder spree in Michigan," Derek skips straight to it. 

Stiles raises his eyebrows. "And they gave that to us why?"

"It's near identical to the ritualistic sacrifices from Beacon Hills a few years ago," Derek tells him. "McCall gave it to us."

Well, shit. Stiles sighs and scrubs his hand over his face. "Right."

"Plane leaves in three hours," Derek says, then leaves without waiting for a response.

"Wait, what plane?" Stiles calls after him. Somehow the FBI seems to attract a lot of taciturn types who shoot out one liners without explanation or follow up. Looks like Stiles will have to call Raph's assistant to get the flight details. Ever since he got his promotion he refuses to answer Stiles' calls himself in work hours.

It takes Stiles the whole flight on top of the last couple of weeks of sort of working together to work out that Derek isn't actually standoffish or taciturn, so much as awkward as hell. He coasts by on his, frankly adorable, grin and good looks when he needs something from the flight attendants or girls in the office, but he doesn't seem to know how to have a normal conversation with Stiles.

"So, where did you guys go after you left Beacon Hills?" Stiles asks, hoping it's a good avenue for conversation and not a dead end of angst.

Derek, scrunched into his seat to avoid pressing up against Stiles with those beautiful broad shoulders, doesn't even look at him as he answers. "New York."

"Why'd you leave?" Stiles asks. "I mean, it must have been hard after Laura, but wasn't your family in Beacon Hills for generations before that?"

"My mom wanted to get me away from it all," Derek explains, very obviously trying not to just clam up. Stiles is genuinely curious as to why he makes the effort. "It was supposed to be temporary."

"But you just decided you liked New York, or what?" Stiles presses, less for an answer and more to see if Derek will keep trying.

"It's complicated," Derek says, in a tone that clearly says the topic is closed.

Stiles nods and tries not to be disappointed. "Well, things just got steadily more murdery after you left, anyway. Was probably for the best."

If anything, that makes Derek even tenser. He flags down a flight attendant.. "Excuse me, could I get a drink of water?"

"Sure," the flight attendant replies enthusiastically and a little flirtily, the grin just as effective as ever. Maybe only Stiles notices the way it doesn't brighten Derek's eyes like usual.

 

The case is abysmally simple and yet difficult to explain or evidence without going into territory most people wouldn't believe. Luckily with the Druidic aspect if it he can pass most of it off as the killer, or more likely killers, just believing certain things. He'd done the same with an exanguination case a few weeks ago. Though he's yet to come across an actual vampire (one day, Scott. Just you wait and see) enough people are into their generation's vampire trend just that bit too much, so blaming an exanguination on on crazy fangirls/boys works just fine. It was a weird spider monster thing Stiles hasn't yet been able to identify, for the record.

Stiles is halfway through mentally drafting his report and deciding whether to contact the local werewolf pack to help him round up some evil Druids before he notices Derek still carefully examining the scene. Right. Partner. Who doesn't know about Druids or werewolf packs. And will be a prime target for the Druids once they realise there are FBI agents after them.

"Thoughts?" Stiles asks, interested to see what Derek comes up with.

"Definitely religious sacrifice," Derek muses, lifting a piece of evidence close enough to his face that Stiles wonders if the guy should be wearing glasses. "Druidic style, also... themed?"

Stiles watches on silently as Derek patrols along the edge of the scene.

"The victims were chosen thematically. A maiden, mother, crone. Almost Nordc or ancient Grecian, really. The three fates," Derek continues. "They were trying to change something. Something big."

"That's..." Impressive. Stiles shakes his head. "Yeah. My guess is a death. Maybe preventing one they think is inevitable. Destined. Could be a birth, but there's no fertility element to it. No romantic elements either. And appealing directly to the fates like this? It seems kinda-"

"Desparate," Derek finishes.

Stiles nods and throws him a small finger gun.

 

"You suck," Stiles grumbles.

"You said you have ADHD, I didn't think caffeine was a great idea," Derek says, still hilding out the stupid tea he got for Stiles.

Stiles glares.

Derek sighs and switches over their drinks so Stiles has his coffee. It has that dumb almond milk Derek takes it with, but it's better than nothing. Although nothing still would have been better than the tea.

"Weird ass hippie," Stiles mutters quietly over the coffee while Derek goes to throw the cup carrier into the recycling.

When Derek sits back down, Stiles hands him a folder. "So, I figured I'll take the Wicca group, you take the eco-apartment complex, we meet back here for lunch and exchange notes. Whoever finishes first gets the creepy fortune teller lady."

"You want to split up?" Derek asks dubiously.

That's the plan. Stiles figure the Wicca group is the most likely place for the Druids to show up, or at least to notice them looking into the murders. If he can keep Derek from sharing the target by foisting him off on some rich hippies, then he can hopefully draw their attention. Well, not hope. Expect. Stiles has always been pretty much a magnet for the supernatural. "Well, yeah. Human sacrificing Druids probably aren't going to attack at a Wicca meeting, and that hot yoga chick who was flirting with you at the park on the way over here is one of the apartment people so you'll probably get everything out of her pretty quick."

"Fine," Derek agrees reluctantly. 

Stiles enjoys watching him walk away for more than one reason.

The Wicca circle is a no go, so Stiles does a quick interview with the creepy fortune teller lady, also useless, and decides to go for an early lunch. Derek seems like a by the book kinda guy so Stiles figures he has at least half an hour or so before Derek will be back at the cafe.  It's only half an hour after he's finished eating that it occurrs to him that Derek should have at least checked in by now.

A sinking feeling in his gut tells him Derek isn't going to answer his calls. Crap. 


	3. Chapter 3

The building is as shiny and new and completely free from creepy vibes as it was in the pictures Stiles found online when researching the case. The guy that comes out to greet him friendly without being over friendly, and the smell of lemon floor cleaner drifts gently through the entrance hall. 

"Hi, I'm sorry," Stiles says, not really sure why he's apologising but feeling weirdly bad about bothering the guy any further. "But have you seen a guy round here with like, a killer jawline and eyebrows that make him look like an actual killer? Dark hair, little shorter than me."

The guy nods. "Came for an apartment viewing, right?"

Unaware of what Derek may or may not have used as an excuse for poking around, Stiles chances it. "Sure. Yeah. He was supposed to call me after, but I haven't heard from him. You know where he is? Or maybe when he left?"

"He left maybe an hour ago? Don't know where he went though, sorry," the guy says, a little too smoothly. 

Stiles keeps his expression open and amiable. "Thanks anyway."

"You the partner he was talking about?" 

"What?" Surely Derek hadn't told them he was a federal agent?

"Said he had to talk to his partner about stuff before he could commit to the apartment," the guy explains. 

"Right," Stiles plays along. "We're checking out a couple of different places. Comparing notes."

Apartment guy smiles agreeably and Stiles feels bad for being suspicious. "He seemed to like the place. You wanna look around while you wait for him to call?"

Perfect. "Sounds good."

"Cool. I'm Ian," Ian says.

"Mitch," Stiles says. It's one of his go to fake names. Close enough to his godawful first name that it's easy to remember.

"So the apartment is third floor, but it's got a little outdoor space and great views," Ian starts his pitch as they walk towards the staircase. Apparently taking the elevator when you don't need to is a no no in the eco friendly building, as supported by the shiny poster next to the stairs thanking them for saving electricity.

"Are you the owner?" Stiles asks.

Ian laughs. "It's a co-op, man. We all joint own and run the place. You and your guy move in then you'll be part of all that. Full access to facilities, equal say on new members, changes, all the good stuff. Kelly's the one to go to with any issues. She deals with the maintenance staff, utilities, stuff like that."

"So do we gotta meet everyone before we can sign anything?" Stiles asks, because if Derek shows up and they need to look into everyone this whole prospective neighbour thing might be a good in. 

"Yeah, but don't worry about it. We keep it casual. Few drinks up on the roof, show you around the rest of the building, that kind of thing," Ian says. He leads off the stairs into the third floor hall and over to one of the apartments, barely glancing at his keys before throwing open the door and letting Stiles go in first.

The place is clean and airy, big windows, open space. It's nice. Stiles almost wishes he were actually here to buy it rather than stuck in his dingy place back home. Truth be told he could probably afford to get a better place, but he's not there enough to be too bothered by it. This place, though, it just _feels_ how he always imagined a home would. Something he hasn't really felt since his mom died. 

A distant alarm bell rings in his head, that weird sixth sense he's always had for when something isn't quite normal.

"It's a nice place," Stiles says, aware of Ian watching him.

Stiles takes his time looking around, partly to keep up the ruse and partly to buy time to figure out what the hell is going on.

"You know, I think you might just be a good fit here," Ian ponders. "We're pretty exclusive, like minded people only, but there's something about you... A spark of something."

The words set the hairs on the back of Stiles' neck standing up. "Oh yeah? What about D- my partner?"

Ian shrugs. "He seems cool. Opted for the oatmilk."

"Right," Stiles says doubtfully.

His obvious confusion gets a laugh from Ian. "Lowest environmental impact."

Okay, that makes a little more sense. "So you're saying he got offered a drink?" Stiles hints, with just a slight edge of flirtation. Flirting has been his best friend since he figured out in the academy that away from Beacon Hills' unnaturally, or rather supernaturally, good looking population he was considered pretty hot property. It also does awesome at covering up his awkwardness.

Another laugh. "What's your poison?"

Stiles shrugs. "Surprise me."

Ian nods and goes to leave the apartment.

"Oh," Stiles adds. "No almond milk though." He's pretty sure that's the one Chidi said was really bad in The Good Place.

"Good choice."

Stiles gives himself a mental pack on the back.

He's got his pendulum out before Ian's been gone a full ten seconds, reaching for that spark Deaton taught him to look for, that conviction that THIS WILL WORK. The pendulum starts to sway.

The blaring sounds of his ring tone startle him out of his concentration. After a moment of dizziness, he recognises the strains of California Gurls as the song he set for Derek's contact (it seemed funny at the time) and fumbles to answer it, pendulum swaying forgotten in his hand.

"Where the hell are you, man?" Stiles opens with.

An uncertain pause and Derek answers. "I was following up a lead. Where are you?"

"The Gaia Complex. Since you didn't bother to check in with your stupid lead I came out here to see if you'd been murdered by hippies," Stiles accuses. "Now get your ass over here. Something's hinky."

"Hinky?" Derek repeats skeptically.

"Hinky," Stiles says firmly. 

"I didn't notice anything," Derek says. "I was there for an hour."

Stiles sighs. "Listen, if you're gonna be my partner you're gonna need to learn to take my word from it. Unless you're about to be sacrificed by druids, you need to get here in the next fifteen minutes."

"Alright, I'll head back."

Ian comes back in bearing a steaming mug.

"Okay, see you soon Honey," Stiles says and hangs up. He shoots a totally innocent grin at Ian. "What is that? Chai?"


End file.
